


He Didn't Take The Time To Lie

by BryroseA



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon, F/M, Kissing, Season 2, and language, intense angst, missing scene -ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryroseA/pseuds/BryroseA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey! I've got 911 on the line, who can give me the address here? No one? Yeah, I've got one of those ankle monitors on, does that help? Yeah, the River Stix. There's blood everywhere."</p><p>Logan has had a very bad year, but Veronica's hasn't really been a picnic either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Didn't Take The Time To Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: During S2E08: Ahoy, Mateys

After the fire, nothing was ever supposed to scare her that much again. After the fridge, and the smoke and the flames, and that _voice_ oozing through the walkie-talkie, and her father’s shrieks…everything that was left was supposed to be easier. Veronica had changed her life to make sure of it.

But, pinned to the pool table with Liam Fitzpatrick’s hand circling her neck, tattoo needle buzzing like a wasp, so close she could feel the vibrations on her skin—feel the pain before it even began—it had been brought home to her in the most sickening way possible that things could get worse.

She can’t seem to catch her breath, can’t seem to stop hearing the drone of the needle.

Seeing the gun.

Veronica is dimly aware of Logan pulling his XTerra over to the curb in front of Mars Investigations. He’s a heavy silence on the other side of the car; hasn’t said a word since they left the bar, just vaulted into the car and drove carefully across town, darting concerned glances at her. He took her here to the office where he’d picked her up what seems like days ago, without asking. She’s home. It’s over.

As the car rocks to a stop, the tears she has been holding back crawl up her throat. Veronica curls forward, bringing her hands up to hide her face as it crumples. _No, no, no, no,_ she doesn’t want to be doing this here. In front of him. Logan has seen her vulnerable enough already, last summer, and it clearly didn’t matter one fucking bit to him. She’s just giving him more ammo, sitting here, crying in his car.

She can feel him leaning toward her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Blood is pounding warm in her face, anger and _fearfearfearfear_ , buzzing through her, making her feel squiggly and confused inside. Logan is reaching for her and she wants to punch him, wants to—

“Look, you’re gonna be okay.” The soft touch of his hand against her upper back fires something hot and splintery in her.

Her control breaks and she _has_ to touch him.

Veronica throws herself across the center console into his body. Her face collides with his almost painfully as she smashes their mouths together, desperate for him, for the way he can take her away from everything.

Logan makes a surprised noise, frozen under her assault for the barest of moments, and then sinks into it, his big hands coming up to frame her face, cupping her jaw, angling her to delve deep into her mouth.

Their kiss isn’t sensual; it’s carnal, rough and life affirming. He’s got a _gun_ and he could have fucking _died._ She could have died.

He wraps his arms around her, hands sliding under her to lift her effortlessly all the way across the console, settling her against him, hitching her hips in close. Veronica folds herself into the awkward space between his body and the steering wheel, wriggling to get nearer, clutching fistfuls of his dumbass leather motorcycle jacket.

She’s so hungry for him. It’s been so long.

This summer he was so hot and sweet, but kissing him now is like kissing fire, open flame all over her body, consuming her and burning her down to ash. She wants to believe she’ll rise like a phoenix, stronger for his destructive power, but she fears it won’t be true, fears this will be the end of her. He’ll be the end of her. Of himself.

The inside of Logan’s mouth is like warm silk and he’s devouring her without any of the finesse she remembers, his fingers grip tight in her hair and the world spins in wobbly circles, fuzzing out into un-reality. He whimpers into her mouth, and she’s pretty sure he’s trying to say her name, trying to coax some meaning into this, but she presses forward against him, sucking on his tongue, swallowing his words, swallowing anything that could remind her of the existence of a life outside of this moment.

Logan fights back, freeing his tongue to tease along hers, thrusting fast in simulation of an act she wants achingly badly. Her whole body is a giant open void of need, she yearns to be filled, her jeaned hips are undulating into his, meeting his fierce uncoordinated rise and fall, and she doesn’t care anymore.

Duncan is out of her mind, normal is out of her mind, Logan’s vendetta, which apparently meant so much more to him than their relationship that he wouldn’t even _listen_ to her, wouldn’t even _talk_ to her, is out of her—

He brings his hands up and, and— wouldn’t even _fight_ for her. Didn't once try to _call_ her.

Blood is pounding warm in her face, anger and _fearfearfearfear_ , buzzing through her, making her squiggly and confused inside.

—doesn’t even _want_ her.

Logan is reaching for her and she wants to punch him, wants to—

“Look, you’re gonna be okay.”

—finds herself back across the console, in her own seat, eyes dry and burning from holding back tears. No bad decisions made, body still hers, boyfriend not cheated on. Yet. She feels the soft touch of Logan’s hand against her upper back and it fires something hot and splintery in her.

Her control breaks— _CAN’T let him touch me._

Veronica throws her hands up, flinging away from his touch, and all of the terror-rage- _(lust)-_ terror burning in her gut explodes out of her.

“A _gun_ , Logan?! A GUN? What are you doing with a gun? You’re going to get yourself _killed_! Don’t you understand that?”

He’s shocked, recovering slowly, blatting on about Dick’s father, and the gun not being loaded—which is SO much better, of course, asshole. Of _course_ what she’s worried about is him shooting other people, not about his brains winding up spattered on the sidewalk by some quick-drawing lowlife. Fuck no, not that. She couldn’t possibly be concerned about that.

And you know what? Fuck him. He doesn’t want her, doesn’t want her concern, doesn’t want anything except her expertise and her _help_. With his stupid married girlfriend and his fucking death wish and his stupid fucking ankle monitor, and his GUN. So why is she still sitting in his car anyway?

_What do you even want, here, Veronica?_

She gathers all of the bitterness in her body and lets it spit out of her lips. “Given your _situation_ , you should just move out of Neptune.”

It’s a good parting line—the best she’s going to get—so she slams out of the car and doesn’t look back.

 

 

   

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title source: 
> 
> Now he's gone, I don't know why  
> And 'till this day, sometimes I cry  
> He didn't even say goodbye  
> He didn't take the time to lie
> 
> Bang bang, he shot me down  
> Bang bang, I hit the ground  
> Bang bang, that awful sound  
> Bang bang, my baby shot me down  
> \--Bang, Bang (Nancy Sinatra)


End file.
